Losing My Mind
by GoddessOfOlympia
Summary: "Inception. Don't bother telling me it's impossible." "It's perfectly possible. Just bloody difficult. We tried it. Got the idea in place, but it didn't take." Eames tried inception but it failed.The world's most powerful team try to incept a weapon mogul's daughter with an idea that would grant them the world. But what was the true reason it didn't work? Full summary inside
1. A Meeting of Sorts

**Full Summary:** "Inception. Don't bother telling me it's impossible." "It's perfectly possible. Just bloody difficult. We tried it. Got the idea in place, but it didn't take." Eames tried inception once before but it failed. A team of Cobb, Arthur, Eames, his sister Alice and the second-in-command of Rourke Enterprises form an elaborate plan to incept his daughter Jemma with such an idea, the power granted to them would be unimaginable. But the inception goes wrong and only Eames knows why. What will be the cost for the Forger's feelings for the Mark? Eames/OC

**A/N:** This story was originally started with a friend, with split authoring. However, due to some commitments my friend had, she graciously let me continue writing this story on my own. I'm trying to edit some sections because it was fairly wordy before, but you probably won't see any of my own true writing until Chapter Six. The basis for the story is Eames' comment in the movie when he's talking to Cobb, and he says he's heard that Inception is possible, it's just bloody difficult, and there have been failed attempts before. Till then, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Ian Eames walked into the brightly lit restaurant, looking for someone. The someone he was searching for proving to be elusive to even his sharp eyes. A waiter approached him but Eames quickly sent him off on a different path as he made a line to a man sitting at the bar.

"Cobb," he said and the man glanced up. His blue eyes widened in surprise at seeing Eames.

"Eames," Cobb replied, his voice low to match the hum of the restaurant. "What are you doing here?" There was strained friendliness in Cobb's voice and his posture tensed slightly as Eames slid into the seat opposite.

"That's no way to greet an old friend," Eames remarked, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. "Especially one who's come to do you a favour." Cobb raised his eyebrows.

"What favours do you have to offer me?" he asked, his voice cautious and Eames chuckled.

"I hear you've been out of a job for a little while, mate," he said, signalling the same waiter he'd ignored earlier and ordering a drink. "And I'm here to help you get one." Cobb snorted, a disbelieving smile appearing on his face.

"Here's the thing Eames. I worked for the government. You work for yourself. Besides," he said, pausing and glancing around the room. "I don't work at all anymore. I'm retired." Eames held up a hand as the waiter brought a glass of whiskey back over. He picked it up, swirling it around in the glass as he smirked at Cobb.

"This is one job you better come out of retirement for," he said before leaning across the table slightly. "You ever heard of Rourke Enterprises?" Cobb's eyes flickered slightly in recognition.

"I might have. Big weapons manufacturer, isn't it?" Cobb asked lightly as Eames' smirk deepened.

"Don't play coy with me, Cobb, I know you far too well for that," Eames retorted. "They're more than big. They dominate the entire world. However, it's not political espionage we're required for here. It's personal." Cobb tilted his head slightly, interested. "It's not Rourke we're worried about. You see, he's been more than a little unstable since his son's tragic death. Apparently the only people he'll listen to now are his wife and only daughter. The company could destroy itself if its, uh, dedicated vice-CEO wasn't there to salvage it." Eames glanced around before reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a photograph of a man and a young woman. The man had his arm around the blonde haired girl, who was smiling. Cobb studied it without moving.

"That happens to be the vice-CEO, Christian Parker. And that there?" Eames tapped the small blonde woman beside him. "That's Jemma Rourke. The mark."

"What do you want us to do here, Eames?" Cobb's voice was slightly weary, like he'd resigned himself to doing the job. That was the problem with Eames; he could be a brilliant and charming businessman when he wanted to be.

"We need to incept the girl to stop her father's company from going under." Cobb's eyes widened and he sat bolt upright.

"That's impossible, Eames." Both of them knew in the dream worlds in which they specialised in, inception had never been tried. Extraction was removing an idea from a subject's mind and inception was the opposite; putting an idea in. However, it was more complicated than it sounds. The mind automatically rejects anything that is unnatural to it, and an incepted idea is the most unnatural thing of all.

"It wouldn't be with you, Cobb. You're the best, everyone knows it, including you. Can't you imagine it? The last job of Dominic Cobb, incepting an idea that would bring the largest weapons manufacturing company to power. And it pays the big bucks."

"Yeah, but who's paying?" Cobb muttered and Eames tapped the photo again, this time tapping the man, Christian Parker. Cobb frowned.

"What would he gain, what's his motive?"

"If Rourke Enterprises goes under, he loses everything. If we succeed... he gets everything. The company, the girl, the world," Eames said before meeting Cobb's eyes. "You can go back to Mal and live a happy, rich, life and you'll never hear from me again." There was a long pause before Cobb spoke.

"We'll need to assemble a team." Eames grinned, draining the last of the alcohol in his glass.

"Leave it to me."

* * *

"And one and two and plié and four." The calls from the head of the ballet company formed a rhythmic pattern in Ally Eames's mind as she bent her legs to the instructions.

She bent down to reach her toe, a toe that was covered in a satin ballet shoe, before gracefully lifting it and placing it on the metal barre. She glanced up briefly to see herself reflected in the mirror. Deep brown eyes framed by dark eyelashes stared back at her. Her normally wavy hair that fell to her waist was tied up in a dancer's bun as she continued to exercise. Her slender, willowy body was taunt and elegant as she danced. She began to move into the next exercise when an electronic techno beat filled the practice room, cutting across the classical music that was tinkling from a piano and causing several other ballerinas to look up.

"No cell phones in the practice room!" came a sharp voice but Ally ignored it, rushing over to her bag. She normally would have ignored it but she'd set this particular ring tone for a particular person. She delved into her bag until she found her phone, pulling it out and flipping it open.

"Ian!" she said by way of greeting. On the other end of the phone, her brother, Ian Eames, chuckled.

"_Why so formal, _Alice_, dear_," he replied sarcastically, using her full name as she had done to his.

Ally rolled her eyes as she stepped outside the room, leaning against the wall. Her hand went to her neck, playing with a small ballerina that hung on a silver chain. Ballerinas weren't supposed to wear any jewellery while dancing but as the _prima ballerina_ of her company, Ally got away with a lot of things.

"How are you?" Ally asked, resigning herself to not being able to continue practicing until she'd had a conversation with Eames.

"_Never mind that,"_ Eames replied. _"I have a job for you._" Ally snorted, smiling slightly. Her brother never changed. She could hardly tell whether this was a good thing or not.

"In case you didn't realise, Ian, I actually have a job. I was working when you called," she informed him. He chuckled on the other end again.

"_Oh, no, you'll like this one much better." _His words sent a slight chill up Ally's spine as she tried to think of any other meaning to his words but the obvious. He gave her no more reply, forcing her to say something.

"There was a reason I left that world, Ian."

"_And there's a reason you're going to want to come back, Al. Times are turning and we need the best in the world for this job."_

"Look, I'm sure there are other people you can use," she said, her voice slightly strained. " And I'm not the best architect in the world!"

"_You know you are, Ally, you told me yourself that you were once."_

"Once, Ian, and you haven't even told me what this is about!" Ally snapped, glancing at the door, the faint sound of a piano trickling through.

"_You're asking me so you must be interested. And... it's inception."_ Ally stiffened, not realising her grip on the phone had tightened.

"No. The answer is no, Ian. It was no then and it is no now. Do not ask me again," she said into the phone before flipping it shut without a chance for Eames to say anything more.

* * *

"Jem! You've got to hurry up!" Christian Parker called through the large apartment he shared with his girlfriend.

When there was no response, only the sound of water running in the shower, he sighed and sat back down on the couch. The two were supposed to be going on a lunch date, but a few hours prior, Jemma's father had called and asked if the two could stop by his office first. Of course, Christian had agreed-because he can't, and wouldn't, tell his boss no-and now here he was, waiting for Jemma to finish getting ready so they could leave. Which, at the current moment, seemed like it would never happen.

About ten minutes later, Jemma had stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body before making her way into the bedroom she shared with Christian. She quickly got dressed after glancing at the clock and realized it was later than she had initially thought. She gazed at herself in the mirror, giving herself a once over to make sure she was really ready to leave.

Today, she was wearing a charcoal coloured pencil skirt that stopped about mid-thigh and showed off her legs. The skirt had a crisscrossing pattern over it, like strips of material had been cut then sewn on one over the other. There was a black, elastic material as the waistband, giving it a high-waisted appearance. Her top was a snowy white colour that stopped mid-torso, but because of the high waisted skirt, it didn't show very much skin. On the back, there was a large, teardrop shape cut out. She grabbed a dark red blazer from out of the closet to give the outfit a more professional look for when they met with her father. Her dark red ankle boots (the same colour as the jacket) completed her look.

Jemma had certain standards to reach as the daughter of the owner of a multi-billion dollar company. Professional yet casual was how she normally dressed; a happy medium between what her mother wanted and how she would have preferred.

"Chris, I'm ready!" Jemma called as she stepped out of the bedroom and into the living room.

"Finally," Christian said, a teasing glint in his eyes as he stood. "You take forever."

"Sorry we can't all be ready in five minutes like you," Jemma playfully shot back at him as they exited the suite and made their way down into the lobby of the hotel they lived at.

They walked out into the front of hotel and the valet service brought up Christian's car, which had been a gift from Jemma's father. After tipping the man, Christian and Jemma got into the dark silver BMW M5 and drove off. The drive there was rather quiet, but the two were content in the silence, having known each other for a few years. As they neared the large skyscraper in New York where Jemma's father worked, Christian turned to her.

"Do you know what he wants to talk about?" He asked her. Jemma shook her head.

"No. He didn't say," Jemma told him as they turned down the busy street that led to Rourke Enterprises. Christian grew silent and frowned. It wasn't often William called Christian in on his days off.

Christian pulled the car up to the front of the large building before getting out and walking around to the passenger side to open the car door for Jemma. Once they were both out, another young man got into the car and drove off to park it. Christian, once again, tipped the valet service before leading the way inside Rourke Enterprises.

An elevator took them up to the floor where William Rourke's office was, and the two stepped onto the floor out of the elevator before making their way down the hall to the door. Jemma paused at the door when two voices greeted her through the closed wood, only one she recognized, and that belonged to her father; the other one was foreign to her. She knocked once and upon hearing a 'come in' pushed the door open. She turned to her left and smiled at her father sitting behind his desk.

The other voice she had had heard must've belonged to the other man occupying the chair that sat across from her father, his back to the door. He turned around to glance at her, and she realized he was someone she hadn't seen before. She brushed the thought aside as her father stepped out from behind his desk and gave her a hug. After shaking hands with Christian he returned to his chair and gestured to the man.

"Jemma, this is Jacob Roth," He said, introducing the two. "Jacob, this is my daughter, Jemma."

Jemma nodded her head politely at the man, wondering why her father was introducing the two of them. She smiled as well, to not be rude-like she had always been taught. The man returned the smile before speaking.

"Pleasure to meet you," He said, and Jemma noticed he had a British accent. "And this is...?" He trailed off glancing at Christian.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Jacob, this is Christian." William shook his head at his slip-up and Jacob extended his hand to Christian. As Christian shook it, there was something off about his actions, almost robotic. It struck Jemma as odd, but she couldn't quite place why.

The man, or Jacob as he had been introduced, had bright blue eyes and dark blonde hair, almost brown, that was slicked off to the side in a very business-like haircut. Even though he was sitting down, Jemma could tell he was well-built. His white, long-sleeved shirt hugged his arms tightly which was accompanied by a white and black diagonally striped tie.

"You wanted to speak with me?" Jemma asked, being ever so polite. Her father nodded his head as he leaned forward against his desk.

"Yes. I believe it will be in your best interest if you had personal security," Her father started and watched as Jemma's eyes widened before she shook her head.

"No. Dad, I'm fine without someone," She protested, but her father held up his hand to her and she pursed her lips together.

"I've already arranged for it," He stated. "Jacob, will be your bodyguard," He added with a motion to the man. "And I'd appreciate it if he started today."

Jemma opened her mouth to protest further, but closed it upon realizing her efforts would be futile. She knew her father was only do what he thought was best and he was only trying to protect her. He wanted her safe... especially after her brother... She sighed as her thoughts trailed off. She couldn't be angry with her father for simply wanting to protect her.

"Yes, father," She said.

"Thank you," He said, relieved she hadn't argued. "After your lunch with Christian, I would like you to come back here for Jacob. That will give me and him enough time to talk."

* * *

Eames watched as the blonde woman nodded her head once more to her father. She exited the room without another word, but not before glancing back at him, her dislike of this arrangement clear in her crystal blue eyes. He couldn't help but smirk at that. Christian followed after Jemma, he to also giving the new bodyguard one last look. Though his wasn't in annoyance, it was more confused and shocked.

He was the whole reason Eames was even sitting in this office talking with William Rourke. Though Eames hadn't informed Christian of his coming, he had hoped the man could've played off them knowing each other a little better. William Rourke hadn't suspected anything out of the ordinary, but his blonde daughter seemed sharp, sharper than most people probably gave her credit for. And Eames had noticed the narrowed eyes she gave the two men when they had shook hands, Christian's body stance having gone tense after the introductions.

He pushed the thoughts aside as he continued to speak with the man who held the key to his future. If Eames could pull off this job, he would be a very powerful man, in the dream realms and in reality.

"I've arranged for Christian to fly to London tomorrow to consult with some business partners of mine," William Rourke told Eames. Eames lifted his eyebrow a fraction. He'd only managed to inform Christian of where they needed to be three days ago. For all his faults, he managed to get things done.

William set his lips in a tight line, as if he was unhappy about what he was about to say. "Christian has managed to convince me to let Jemma accompany him and begin to learn some of the finer points of the business. You, in turn, will accompany her as her private body guard." Eames nodded respectfully.

"Will that be all sir?" he asked. The weapons mogul nodded, dismissing him.

Eames stood and walked out of the room before pulling out his cellphone. He scanned down his list of contacts, hovering over Ally's name before flipping to Cobb's. He'd see her soon enough anyway. The phone began to ring before crackling as it picked up.

"_Hello?"_ The voice was faint, like the receiver had very little reception.

"Cobb, it's Eames. Have you found a Point Man yet?" Eames asked, using the technical term for a specific role in the dream world. Once an architect has designed a dream, the Point Man essentially screwed it together and made it stable. There was a slight chuckle on the other end.

"_His names Arthur, Arthur Meads. I worked with him once upon a time and this is definitely the guy we need. He's like a machine, so he'll be able to counteract any architect you throw at him and stabilise the dream. He's one of our best chances of making this work. He was near impossible to track down, though, so you owe me,"_ Cobb replied.

Eames rolled his eyes, glancing around. He saw the girl he was supposed to be guarding, Jemma, approaching him. She still had to go through two sets of glass doors but he couldn't risk her overhearing him.

"Couldn't have been anymore bloody difficult than tracking you down, mate," Eames said hurriedly. "I'm picking up the architect tomorrow. We meet in New York City." Eames immediately flipped the phone shut, assuming a professional air as Jemma reached him.

"My father employed you as my personal security. Am I correct?" she began. Eames nodded.

"You are most correct, Miss Rourke," he said, hiding a smirk. She raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed.

"So why aren't you doing your job, Mr. Roth?" she asked, an icy tone entering her voice as she studied him. Eames opted not to reply but stepped in front of her to open a door.

"Please, let me escort you to the car, Miss Rourke," he said in a falsetto, exaggerated voice. He was guaranteed the job no matter what, and if he couldn't have a little fun with the stuck up bitches in the world anymore, then life clearly wasn't fun anymore.

She didn't even look at him as she breezed through the glass doors. Eames followed slightly behind her, smirking as he managed to get a good view of her ass as she walked down the marble steps leading from her father's building. She didn't speak a word as she slid into the back seat of the car and Eames slid in beside her. Two can play this game. The car quickly took them from the business district of the city to the high class suburban area. It was an expensive make, to match everything else high quality in this woman's life. The hotel that Jemma had left quickly that morning came into view.

"Nice place," Eames commented as he slid back out of the car. Jemma rolled her eyes as she unlocked the front door. "Shouldn't you be telling me anything _special_ I need to know about you, so I can guard you to the max?" Eames quipped, his lip curling at the word 'special.'

"Shouldn't you already know?" Jemma replied, her voice still icy. Eames grinned as they walked into the foyer of her apartment.

"Chris! I'm home!" she called out as she made her way up the stairs. Christian glanced down from the mezzanine and smiled at her, before he saw Eames. His face tightened once again and Jemma picked up on it instantly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Christian said as he began to descend down the stairs. "I'll talk to you in a second, I just want to sort something out with your new security first." Jemma tilted her head slightly, her narrowed eyes surveying the two men before continuing to make her way up the stairs.

"You know, you do need to relax around me a bit," Eames said, smirking as he leant against a wall, his arms folded nonchalantly. Christian glared at him.

"I don't think you quite understand what I'm paying you for, Mr Eames," he said, his voice low. "If this goes wrong, then we are all dead. That gives me more than a little right to be uncomfortable." Eames didn't reply, simply staring the other man down.

"Just remember who hired whom," Christian finally said, his voice edging into a threatening tone as Jemma walked back down the stairs.

* * *

Jemma awoke early the next day before her flight, simply lying in bed beside Christian. Her 'security', Jacob Roth, was in one of the guest bedrooms downstairs. She sat up slowly and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Christian. She grabbed one of his dress shirts from out of the closet and watched as he rolled over onto his stomach in his sleep. She smiled softly at his sleeping form before making her way downstairs and into the kitchen before starting a pot of coffee.

She grabbed a small banana nut muffin from out of the bread box before hopping up onto the counter, like she used to when she was little. She peeled away the paper and broke off a small piece before eating it.

She had never been particularly fond of the flavor banana nut until after her brother had passed away. But when Gabriel died, she found herself liking it, as a way to remember him. And she'd always eaten banana nut from that point on.

She finished up the muffin before tossing the paper at the trashcan that was against the wall by the open doorway. She missed, of course, and heard chuckling. When she glanced up, Jacob Roth was leaning against the doorway.

"You should join the NBA with that shot," He commented and she rolled her eyes at him.

She hopped off the counter and crossed the room before bending over and picking up the discarded trash before letting it fall into the wastebasket. She ignored his comment as she moved away from him to stand in front of the coffee pot. She pulled down a mug from the cupboard before setting it down on the black marble. Her hand rested on the curved metal handle of the cupboard, hesitating from closing it, like she was debating something.

She turned towards Jacob. "You want some coffee?"

He raised an eyebrow in return before nodding his head. He watched as she pulled down another mug and set it beside the first before pouring the black liquid into each. She handed him one of the mugs before pulling down creamer and sugar and proceeded to add both to her drink before stirring it with a spoon. She hopped back up on the counter and he chuckled at that. She glanced at him over the top of her mug as she took a sip.

"Where's the Ice Queen from yesterday?" Jacob asked and Jemma rolled her eyes at him as she took another sip of her coffee.

"I'm sleepy. Give me about half an hour and she'll be back," She retorted snarkily, and a smirk crossed Jacob's face.

"There she is," He quipped as he took a sip of his coffee causing the sapphire eyes of hers to roll once again.

"You're rather annoying, you know that?" She asked him as she finished the last of her coffee before placing it in the sink beside her. As she leaned to the side, Christian's dress shirt she was wearing rode up showing off her toned legs.

* * *

Eames watched the woman in front of him, his eyes drifting down to the skin revealed-as would every straight male. The shirt was buttoned just enough to not look indecent, and as he watched her, he noticed she wore the shirt all too well. At the moment, she seemed like one of those Victoria Secret campaigns. His mind started to wander, but was quickly brought back at the sound of Christian's voice.

He sauntered into the kitchen. "You're up early."

Jemma tilted her face slightly to allow him to kiss it. "I sure am. I made some coffee. There's some if you want it."

"Coffee. Just what I needed." He returned the smile she gave him as he grabbed the jug of black liquid.

Eames leaned against the wall again, his cup empty and resting on the counter. He noticed Christian was still tense and acting awkward around him. If he didn't start loosening up, his girl was going to figure something out. He watched as the man who hired him glanced down at Jemma and noticed what she was wearing. Almost like sensing Eames' earlier thoughts, Christian moved to block Eames view of the girl, and a small smirk appeared on his lips at that. Eames glanced away as their lips met before clearing his throat loudly. Jemma glared around the side of her boyfriend, sliding off the counter.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice well and truly returned to the tone from yesterday. Eames smirked and shrugged in reply.

"Probably not in the way you're thinking of," he told her with a cheeky wink, completely cheerful despite the fact her boyfriend was standing right beside her. Christian tensed, a vein in the side of his neck pulsing as Jemma made a sound of disgust. She turned and began to walk out of the kitchen.

"I'm going to get ready. We need to leave for the airport in half an hour, our flight's at 12:00 PM."

Christian grinned at her, moving away from Eames and relaxing slightly. "Is it even possible for you to get ready in half an hour?" Christian questioned as they walked up the stairs.


	2. The Changeling

Jemma walked into her wardrobe as she heard Christian turning the shower on. She could quite easily get ready in half an hour; sometimes she just chose not to.

She pulled down several items of clothing and tossed them on the bed before tugging Christian's shirt from over her head. In hindsight, she realised it wasn't the best of ideas to wear such a revealing outfit around Jacob. She pulled on a clingy, long sleeved grey dress that sat in folds around the neckline before looping a belt around her slim waist. She ran her fingers through her naturally wavy hair. It was summer in America but the seasons would change as they crossed the datelines and reached London.

It was in moments like these that she hated everything her father had. Without his money, her mother would never force her to dress herself up like some sort of executive show pony. She slid a pair of boots onto her feet as she heard Christian turn the shower off. She began to pack a small suitcase, knowing they wouldn't be in London for long. She still thought it was odd how they had to fly all the way over there for a simple meeting, but whoever had the money, had the power in this world.

Christian emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. He raised his eyebrows at Jemma who smirked.

"Never thought I'd see the day when you were ready before me," he commented as he pulled on the dress shirt Jemma had left discarded on the floor, doing the buttons up quickly.

Jemma didn't reply, studying him. He was clearly tense about something and had been ever since Roth's appearance. She didn't know what it was but she intended to find out. However, Christian was very closed off, Jemma had learnt. That meant her only option was talking to Roth himself, which could prove to be interesting.

She shut the suitcase and lowered it to the ground as Christian looped his tie around his neck before walking over to Jemma. She smirked as she took it in both hands, knotting it neatly.

"Twenty-six years old and you still don't know how to tie a tie," she said, her smirk fading into a smile. Christian laughed, leaning down to give her a peck on the lips.

"That's why I have you, baby," he said as he walked out of the room, grabbing his phone from where it was resting on the dresser. He checked the time and nodded.

"We'll be early," he remarked as Jemma wheeled her bag across the room, carrying it down the stairs herself. Roth was waiting for them, fiddling with something in his hand as they walked down. Christian's face became even more tense when he saw the other man as his phone began to ring.

"I'll just take this, then we can leave," he said to Jemma before answering it and stepping outside.

"What's that?" Jemma asked the other man, referring to the object in his hand. His hand closed around it and slid into his pocket, smirking up at her.

"That's none of your business, Miss Rourke," he said cheerily. "And it appears your dearly beloved is waiting," he said, nodding his head to where Christian had just flipped his phone shut outside. Jemma hesitated before moving, wondering if she should say anything now. However, the decision was taken from her hands as Christian opened the door.

"There goes us being early," he said with an easy grin at her.

Jemma laughed, joining him outside before they all entered the car. Christian was joined in the front of the car by Jemma while Roth sat in the back. He said very little, observing his surroundings. Jemma guessed it must be more effective for a bodyguard, but it completely contrasted his witty, quick comments when he did bother to speak.

The airport was bustling but Jemma's path was direct. "Good morning ma'am, can you please present your passport?" Jemma had been on a plane so many times in her life that this was routine to her, as she slid the small leather bound book across the counter. The flight attendant glanced at the photo then back at her before stamping it and handing it back. "You're good to go!" He said cheerily before moving onto Christian.

Jemma stood slightly to the side, hearing a similar conversation play out between the two men. Christian joined her in the boarding gate, wrapping an arm around her waist as they waited for Roth to be allowed through.

* * *

Eames passed over his passport book. The man at the check-in flipped it open, studied it once before stamping it. "Have a good flight, Mr. Roth," He said with a smile and a nod.

Eames nodded his head in return as he moved through to the waiting couple. Working as what he did, he had a wide variety of different passports and IDs. Jacob Roth was simply a name of a person on a card in a metal box, resting among many other names. It was simply a character that Eames became and was one of many. Adorning a new personality and characteristics was nothing new to Eames, in the dream world and in reality. He was a Forger and a con-artist, and he did both exceedingly well.

As Eames reached the couple, Christian moved away without a word, bringing Jemma with him and headed off towards the boarding gate. Eames followed quietly behind them, watching how Christian acted. In the dream world forgery was one of the keys to success. As a Forger, Eames was able to forge and temporarily assume a person's identity. In order to be successful of convincing the Mark he was who he said he was, he had to learn the mannerisms and characteristics of the person or persons he was going to impersonate. And in this case, with Jemma being the Mark, Christian would be whom Eames would impersonate.

They reached their boarding gate before taking a seat while they waited for the plane to begin boarding. Eames sat across from the two, watching them carefully. While he knew _of_ Jemma, he didn't know _about _her, and his whole job at this point was to find out information that the team could use in the dream world. At the moment, he knew nothing. And it didn't seem like Jemma would be very willing to share anything with him. He had to get on her good side because that's not where he was right now.

He leaned forward and draped his arms over his knees. Just as he started to say something, a voice come on over the speakers, making a call for all First Class passengers. Jemma stood first and grabbed her bag before making her way over to the desk, the men closely behind her.

They were all passed through and all allowed to board the plane. With First Class only having two seats to a row, Eames' seat was located in the row across from Jemma and Christian's. After their bags had placed in the compartment overhead, they each took their seats. After all the other passengers had boarded the plane, the stewardess came on over the intercom and gave them their safety instructions. Not long after that, the seatbelt light came on, and the plane was taxiing down the runway.

Not long after being in the air, Eames glanced over at the couple. Christian had fallen asleep against the plane window with a pillow he had received from one of the stewardesses while Jemma was reading a book. She glanced up suddenly and turned her head to look at him. Upon catching his gaze, she scowled and quickly looked away. He smirked as his hand went into his pocket, his fingers lightly grazing over the object there. He resisted the urge to pull it out for the time being.

When they touched down in London, they would be there a total of four days, not including the first half day they would have directly after they departed from their flight. The first day, Eames had been informed, Christian would be away for most of it. He had some things to take care of prior to the main meeting for Rourke Enterprises. The first day while Christian was away, Eames job was to go wherever Jemma went. Which, was a good way for him to find out more about her for the mission.

The second day was the day of the meeting that Jemma would be attending with Christian, to learn the business ways. The third day, Christian had more meetings to finish up for the trip to London. He would be free that night sometime later in the evening. The fourth day would be a free day for Christian and Jemma to walk around London and visit the sites or whatever they please. They were scheduled to leave at 3 am the next morning.

Eames, once again, was meant to tag along wherever Jemma went. That's basically all he was doing this whole trip: tagging along. He rolled his eyes at the thought. He was being brought along like he was some trained house pet, and he didn't like that at all. But he knew what was at stake, so he would do what he needed to in order to get the job done.

Despite the fact that Jemma came across as very mature and composed, Eames seemed to sense that she was bored and unhappy about having to accompany Christian on this trip, even though it let her gain more freedom. She sighed, her fingers hovering above her phone before she dragged a card into another pile. Eames returned his thoughts to London. Cobb had guaranteed him an Incepter and a Point Man but it was still up to Eames to get the architect. There were many architects in the dream world, but Eames had learnt to trust what he knew - and there was no one he knew better than his sister. But as the plane descended, he realised he had less and less time to convince her.

Christian stirred and then woke up. Eames watched as Jemma slid her phone into her pocket and smiled at him across the aisle.

"You better be feeling all refreshed now," she teased and Christian grinned at her.

"Oh, I certainly am. Are you planning on doing something to wear me out later?" Christian asked teasingly, clearly ignoring Eames's presence beside Jemma.

"Maybe. You never know," Jemma replied, her tone light and friendly.

"Speaking of later, I have a surprise for you," Christian said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two tickets and handed them to her. Jemma's eyes widened and she smiled. Eames saw that the tickets read "The Royal British Ballet Company Presents," in swirling writing across the top before "The Changeling" was written beneath in large block letters. Eames had learnt from studying Jemma that she used to be part of a dance troupe. She had asked Christian to arrange this in order for him to convince Ally to join him.

"You didn't have to get these for me!" Jemma told Christian, who grinned back at her.

"Unfortunately, I did. They're an apology of sorts, as well as a gift. I'm afraid I have to go to a backcountry warehouse tonight, to see some of your father's stockists." Jemma frowned, her demeanour changing instantly.

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she asked, uncrossing and recrossing her legs.

"No. I'd be there if I could, baby. You know that." Jemma picked up the tickets again, her eyes slightly narrowed.

"There's two tickets here," she stated and Christian nodded. Eames noticed he managed to do a slightly better job of looking relaxed as he jerked his head towards Eames.

"I figured Mr. Roth could accompany you," Christian said nonchalantly.

"Oh, no, I'm sure Mr. Roth wouldn't want to sit through the ballet, Chris. I'll be fine on my own," Jemma told her boyfriend with a smile, speaking as if Eames wasn't right beside her. Eames rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with a smirk as the pilot announced once again that they were descending. He strained to look out the window from the middle seats and saw Heathrow rapidly approaching from below.

"Babe, you know I'd come if I could," Christian said, reaching out to cover her hand with his. "But I can't, and it was your father's orders that Mr. Roth accompany you at all times." Jemma pressed her lips together, and Eames smirked, knowing she wasn't happy with the situation.

"But father could hardly find out all the way-" Jemma couldn't finish her sentence before Christian cut her off.

"They were his orders, Jemma, and I don't want to disobey them," he said sharply. Jemma's eyes narrowed before she nodded.

"Okay. Thank you for the tickets," she said, her voice emotionless as she tucked the tickets into her pocket. Eames smirked again, praising himself quietly.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, please remain in your seats until the Captain announces otherwise. We hope you have had an enjoyable flight with British Airways. Thank you and have a nice day._"

* * *

Of course, Jemma was still a little upset with Christian for leaving her on their first night in London, but she would forgive him instantly. She couldn't stay mad at him no matter the gravity of the situation. She loved him and forgiveness was key. As she took her shower, she thought over the different possible outfits she could wear. Since it was a ballet, dressing up was important, and she had only brought over one dress fancy enough for this event. She sighed. Dressing up was not high on her to-do list. But she would if she had to.

After having a shower, she stepped out and proceeded to get ready with her taking up the entire hour and a half she had. As she stood in front of the floor-length mirror, she surveyed herself, wanting to make sure nothing was out of place and she was presentable.

Her dress was a midnight blue and was a little longer than floor length, the material pooling around her feet which were adorned with silver high-heeled shoes covered in tiny sparkles with the strap criss-crossing over the front of her foot. The dress was bunched up on the right side while the one sleeve was on the left. The material was a silky nylon that slid easily against her skin. Her blonde hair had been curled before being pulled into a low bun on the side of her head, a hair comb with pearls and diamonds accenting it. She had done her make-up perfectly to highlight her eyes, the color of the dress bringing out the lightness of the sapphire orbs.

She grabbed some of her dress in her hand and lifted it up slightly, allowing her to walk without tripping over the too-long length. She retrieved a black clutch from off the dresser before making her way out of the room and to her awaiting security.

"Are we ready to go?" She called to Roth as she stepped into the main room of the hotel suite they were staying in. He had his back to her and upon hearing her voice, he snapped something shut before turning around. He had been a phone call, she gathered when the male pocketed the cell phone.

As she felt his eyes graze over her, taking in the new appearance, she didn't blush or even look away when he met her own eyes. She was used to this kind of behavior from men, but there was something different about this man that made her irritated and yet it peaked her interest about him. He off-set her, and she didn't know why. Around him, she felt the need to snap and make sarcastic remarks when she rarely did that.

She was normally a well-put together woman who handled things professionally; using sarcasm to her was childish. It was like she was a little girl again who was resorting to using sarcasm as a defense mechanism. Why was she feeling the need to defend herself against her personal security? The question hung at the forefront of her mind.

She motioned her head to the door. "We ready to go?" She asked, repeating her question from before. Roth nodded his head at her before opening the door for her. He gave her a nod of his head as she passed by him before he followed her out.

* * *

Once they touched down in London, Eames had been mostly quiet, just watching and observing on the drive to the hotel. He had watched the way Jemma interacted with Christian, the motions he would make with his hands, the facial expressions, nervous ticks he had; putting them to memory because he would need to know them for in the dream world. Christian was a key person in Jemma's life, and therefore a key element in the dream world to convince Jemma the dream was reality. But not just Christian, other important people to her: her mother, father, any friends she might've had.

Once at the hotel, Christian had taken off leaving Eames with Jemma. The girl had gone straight to her room, giving Eames the freedom to do whatever he pleased. Or in this case, needed to do. He needed to make a call to Cobb, make sure things were under control and still going as planned. After getting some food and relaxing a bit, he pulled out his cell phone, once he was certain Jemma was out of the room, and dialed Cobb's number. On the third ring, someone answered. But it wasn't the man he was trying to reach. The voice was younger, and not one he recognized.

"_Hello?"_ The caller asked.

"Who is this?" Eames questioned, his tone not sounding worried just a little surprised.

"_Arthur," _The man answered. _"Can I help you?"_

"I need to speak with Cobb. Where is he?" Eames questioned upon recognizing the man's name as the one Dominic said would be their Point Man.

"_He's busy at this current time,"_ Arthur told him, his tone cordial and business-like.

"I'm sure he's not that busy." Eames drummed his fingers against the table beside him, his impatience growing. Just by the professional tone used in Arthur's voice, Eames could already tell he was someone who preferred to play by the rules rather than deviate and make his own path.

"_He asked not to be disturbed,"_ Arthur said, being persistent.

"Well, I'll take full responsibility if Cobb tries to have your head removed for disturbing him," He replied with a smirk. Arthur's reply was none too interesting, and Eames rolled his eyes. He hadn't even met Arthur personally and he was already bored of the younger man's personality. After a few seconds, noise could be heard on the other end of the phone before Cobb's voice reached Eames.

"_What is it that was so important for me to be disturbed, Eames?"_ Cobb questioned.

Eames smirked. "Ah, Cobb. So delightful to hear your voice. How are you?"

"_You didn't call me to have a chit chat over some tea, Eames. What do you want?"_ Cobb asked, getting down to business causing the Forger to roll his eyes.

"I thought I'd call and update you on where I am with the mission. I'll be visiting the Architect tonight and bring her back over to New York in four days," Eames told him. "We'll need to think of a way to get Miss Rourke to go under," He said before smirking. "I'm sure you can get your Point Man to think of a way, he seems quite capable of thinking up creative ways." By the exhaling on the end of the line, Eames assumed Cobb was rolling his eyes.

"_Don't give him a hard time," _Cobb said in a patronizing tone. _"For what it's worth, he's done an excellent job obtaining information on the Rourke family."_

Eames heard movement behind him and assumed Jemma was making her way out from her room, which meant he had to end the call.

"We ready to go?" Her voice sounded before Eames flipped the phone shut, not even bothering to say goodbye to Cobb. He slipped the phone into his pocket before turning around to face the Mark.

Eames was a man who could control his every movement and emotion that showed on his face. It was crucial in his role as a forger. When he turned around, his eyes met the sight of Jemma in a deep midnight blue gown. His only reaction was for his eyebrows to raise, which Jemma noticed. She smirked, clearly in delight of this reaction before gathering her dress into her hand and stepping past him.

They made their way down to the car and Eames did his duty by opening the door for her. It would make the operation run more smoothly if he gained some of her trust or set her at ease around him. It meant that when she went under - a complicated process in itself - she would be more liable to accept her surroundings. It didn't take long to reach the ballet academy.

It was clear that it was a popular occasion. Men in suits and women in similar styled dresses to Jemma milled around outside the magnificent building that proclaimed "The British Royal Ballet Academy." Eames couldn't stop a smile from crossing his face as he thought of his sister. He hadn't seen her in over three years. They could go long periods of time without seeing each other but when they did, it was as though nothing had changed.

"Are you ready?" he asked Jemma, glancing sideways to see her staring at the crowd outside the window. She gave a small nod without looking at him. Eames dutifully led her out into the crowd. They managed to avoid the lines of people waiting to go in and quickly made it into the foyer. Waitresses and waiters swanned around in the velvet covered waiting room bearing trays of champagne in flute glasses. Eames plucked two off a passing waiter, offering on to Jemma.

"I don't normally drink," she said observing the glass.

Eames rolled his eyes. "Of course you don't," he replied, turning to find a waiter to return the glass to. Before he did, Jemma reached forward and extracted the glass from his fingers carefully.

"I said I don't _normally_ drink, Mr Roth," she told him, her eyes sparkling a little. Eames glanced down at the tickets he had been charged with looking after. Of course, Christian had managed to secure the best seats in the entire theatre. They were in their own private box, centre to the stage.

"I dance, you know," she told him and he glanced at her in surprise. He ran his eyes over her critically and noticed the hard lines of her sides and legs, that marked her as a dancer. Surprisingly, she also had curves which dancers rarely possessed.

"What sort of dance?" Eames enquired politely.

"Aerial silk. You use silk and your body to make shapes and movements to the music," Jemma said. Eames had never heard of this type of dancing before but he took her word for it. "I think Christian got me these tickets because of that," Jemma mused more to herself.

"Shall we go on through? It starts in five minutes," Eames told her without replying to her point and Jemma nodded. She still seemed like the composed, professional woman as earlier but she seemed to be a little lost or delighted in her environment as she followed Eames through. They were guided to their seats and Jemma let out a small gasp when she saw the stage laid out beneath them. Eames' own eyes wandered to the wings of the stage, where his sister would soon be emerging, dancing the role of the Changeling.

"Do you know the story of the Changeling?" Eames inquired. Again, he wanted to make her as relaxed as possible around him. However, Ally had once told him that for people he went to the ballet rarely, it was easier for them to know the story of the ballet they were about to watch than try and pick it up from the dancers. Jemma glanced to the side before shaking her head, somewhat reluctantly, as though she didn't want to give anything away.

"And am I supposed to assume that a hardened security professional like yourself does?" she asked and Eames chuckled.

"Of course. Every true gentleman knows of the ballet."

He settled back into his seat slightly before speaking again. "There was once a beautiful girl with six sisters. Their mother forbade them from dancing on the hills at a full moon as she claimed that there is elf magic around - and bear in mind, this is a folk tale," Eames said but smirked slightly when Jemma looked interested. "Of course, the seven girls ignored her and continued to dance on the hills at the full moon. The most beautiful girl, Sofiya, find herself dancing with the elves and unable to stop. She is taken by them and in her stead, they send an elf girl back to live with the family."

"The Changeling?" Jemma asked and Eames nodded.

"Where Sofiya was a shy and well-mannered girl, the Changeling is daring and vivacious. The family notices the change but they cannot do anything about it. Sofiya was engaged to a Lord and he notices the difference and confronts the sisters about it. The next full moon, the sisters return out to the elf-hills with her fiance. They see their sister dancing with the elves, unable to stop or break free. They attempt to pull her out of the cursed ring that she is dancing in, but the changeling stops them. So the girl's fiance goes down into the circle and breaks the enchanted ring. Sofiya is able to return home and marry the Lord and the Changeling is forced back to the elvish people."

"That sounds somewhat intense," Jemma noted as the curtain on the stage began to draw apart and the lights began to fade. "But at least it has a happy ending." Eames let a smirk cross his face in the half light.

"Not for the Changeling," he murmured before the first dancer entered onto the stage. Eames' smirk morphed into a smile for a different reason than the dancing. It was _his_ sister. She was to be dancing the role of the Changeling. And later in the week, she would take on the role of the architect. Watching her dance, it was easy to see why she was such a good Architect. She could spin dreams from nothing and make them incredibly beautiful and believable.

The velvet red curtain dropped over the stage as the crowd applauded and called. The prima ballerina came out onto the front of the stage as was customary and curtsied. Eames' small smile changed into a grin without realising. His baby sister had grown up a lot in the last three years. Eames was still slightly apprehensive. He hoped he would be able to convince her but if he couldn't, Cobb would be so pissed off.


	3. She Is The Mark

"The ballerina is pretty," Jemma noted as she bent down to pick up her shoes. She had slipped them off at some point during the show for comfort. Eames raised an eyebrow but Jemma simply slid them back onto her feet as she stood.

"Yes, she is," Eames said with a wicked smirk before they made their way back into the foyer. Eames turned to face Jemma seriously. "I need to go and consult with a former manager," he lied smoothly, "just about something while I'm here. I shouldn't be more than ten minutes." Jemma looked slightly surprised but she nodded.

"If I'm kidnapped while you're gone, I blame you," she told him, a hint of teasing entering her tone. Eames rolled his eyes and disappeared into the throng of people.

* * *

Ally quickly exited the stage, breathing heavily. A light sheen of sweat covered her skin from the effort she had put into dancing. A smile graced her face as she moved down through to the backstage area where she was greeted by her Madame.

"Excellent job, Ally," she said, kissing her on each cheek. "You have set the company up for a successful season." Ally flushed at the praise. Having her skills complemented was something that never grew old for her. She had only been dancing for four years, yet it never felt any different. Dancing was so different to her previous jobs with her brother. She made her way down backstage, pulling her hair out of the intricate hairstyle it was arranged in.

"Alice Eames!" she heard a familiar British voice call and she turned in shock. Before she could recognize the speaker, she was crushed in a hug.

"Eames, you're gonna crush my tutu!" Ally squealed, addressing her brother by his last name, as she normally did. He pulled away with a chuckle and she stared at him. First off, he was wearing some sort of suit. Second off, what the hell was he doing in London?

"What are you doing here?" she asked. As she spoke, she bent gracefully at the waist and began to unlace her shoes. The blocks in the tips of the toes that allowed her to point were very uncomfortable when she was just standing around.

"So first you berate me and then you ask me a question? You can't just accept that I wanted to see you?" Eames returned, feigning a hurt voice and Ally rolled her eyes. Like Cobb, she took none of Eames' smooth talking bullshit.

"Forgive me if I'm a little shocked," she replied and Eames chuckled again. "Seriously, what are you doing here, Eames?"

"If you must know," he began haughtily, "my latest job - and by that I mean well-to-do profession - is guarding a young lady who is the daughter of one of the biggest weapons manufacturers in the world. And her boyfriend disappeared mysteriously tonight and gave her ballet tickets to placate her. I, of course, had to accompany her."

Ally regarded her brother. He hadn't changed at all. He was still the same guy with watchful blue eyes and a sharp mouth. Standing side by side, it was easier to spot the sibling resemblance. Both of them had the same nose, mouth and face structure but that was where it ended.

"This is an awfully big coincidence," she replied, straightening and looping her shoes over her hand. "If you're guarding some 'young lady' - and by the way, Eames, going for the taken ones isn't your style - then where is she?" Ally demanded to know. Eames resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't play Ally any longer.

"Look, the game has changed, Al. You heard of Rourke Enterprises?" he asked, his tone becoming serious and Ally nodded. She knew they manufactured weapons and realised they must be the father to the daughter Eames was guarding. "Well, they're going to go under. Old man Rourke lost his eldest child, his son last year. Ever since then, the business has been steadily crumbling. Now, word has it, he was going to pass it down to his daughter, Jemma Rourke."

"If she can stabilise it, what's the problem?" Ally asked.

"Christian Parker is the right hand man to Rourke and Jemma's boyfriend. He believes that Jemma will not be able to keep the company afloat. We need to incept the idea that Jemma should hand over the business to Christian into her head."

Ally's eyes narrowed slightly. She didn't mind the criminal activity that surrounded the lifestyle she used to lead but she did mind manipulating human's free will. Extracting was one thing but inception was something entirely different. It was changing how someone thought and Ally wasn't sure she liked that.

"And what exactly will Christian get out of having the largest weapons country in the world under his control?" she asked. She couldn't see why Eames couldn't just leave the country in Jemma's control.

"A lot. He'll get a lot. But trust me, Ally, it's better this way. The world will be safer, and we'll be rich. We'll also be the first people in the world to have incepted someone. Don't you want to go down in history?" Eames asked, hoping he played his cards right.

"Who exactly is 'we'?" Ally asked and Eames relaxed slightly. He knew she would do it then, even if she didn't. Her entire body language had changed.

"Cobb, like I said earlier this week. He's getting a hold of the chemist for us. I'll be forging her boyfriend and you'll be the Architect. It'll be like old times."

"Who's the Point Man?" Ally queried. The Point Man was one of the most crucial people in the operation. They stabilised the dreams, created the levels.

"His name's Arthur Meads. I spoke to him on the phone the other day, he seemed like a bit of a stuck up prat," Eames said and Ally rolled her eyes.

"Eames, you think everyone who's not from Whitechapel is a stuck up prat," she told him and he shrugged, not denying it. The Eames' were born rough and played rough. And Ally actually hoped she'd die rough one day. Ballet was a beautiful world but even she knew it would lose its glamour one day, just as the dream world had.

"Does this mean you'll do it?" he asked, a glint in his eye. Ally hesitated. Eames painted an enticing picture. One last operation before she could retire to ballet as the Architect who had been a part of the first inception. The idea was alluring. Ally had grown up in the last three years. Despite still being reluctant to mess around with people's minds, she could see that she was naive when Eames had suggested it when she was twenty years old.

"Yes. I'll do it," she said. "You still never answered my question. Where is the ever elusive Jemma Rourke if you're supposed to be guarding her?" Ally asked.

"Right here." Ally watched as Eames' face changed slightly, his emotions still under control as he turned. Ally saw a beautiful young woman in a midnight blue dress approach them from the backstage corridor. She walked with a cool sort of elegance towards them. "Am I to believe that your former manager is also a prima ballerina or is there something you have to tell me, Mr Roth?" Ally didn't even react to the false name as she studied the girl. She spoke in a cold tone, but Eames took it as it came and flashed her an easy smile.

"I might have led you slightly astray, Miss Rourke. You see, this here is my sister, Ally Roth."

The girl's eyes flickered with some emotion but she was clearly used to situations where she had to hide her true emotions, and she stepped forward gracefully, her hand extended. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Roth." Jemma's voice was soft spoken, a far cry from the biting accents both Eames and Ally spoke with.

Ally stared at her for a moment before shaking her hand politely. "And you, Miss Rourke. Did you enjoy the show?" Ally knew it was important for Eames to keep this woman onside but a part of her was curious what she thought and if a young woman of such high status in the world could be of any gain to her career.

She could tell Eames knew her thoughts exactly when he rolled his eyes. A family of schemers, they came from. This just made her smirk a little more, careful to keep it polite.

"Yes, it was very… fierce." Ally resisted raising an eyebrow at her choice of words. Americans. She would never understand them. She tipped her head slightly.

"Well, I should let you be on your way," she said, straightening as if to leave. However, as she stepped past, Jemma placed a hand softly on her shoulder.

"Actually, I thought it might be nice if you came to dinner with us. A way to congratulate you on your performance. And I'm sure Jacob would like to catch up with you, he tells me he's been in the States for sometime." Her smile was pleasant enough and she seemed sincere but Ally glanced sideways to see Eames shoving his hands deep into his pocket.

Oh, he did not like this situation one bit.

Ally smiled. "I'd love to join you," she said. "Shall I meet you there at nine?" The ballet had been relatively early so it gave her at least an hour to get changed and sorted.

"That would be lovely. Just give my name at the door," Jemma said after suggesting the name of a restaurant. She turned and swept down the hallway elegantly, Eames reluctantly following her as he glared at Ally.

"Your move, big brother."

* * *

In her dressing room, she quickly set about removing the harsh makeup she'd worn as the Changeling. She slid her petite, lithe body out of the tutu, stretching once and covering her mouth lazily as she yawned.

Despite Eames' dirty look, he had to realise that Ally accompanying them for dinner was a good idea. She was going to be in a dream with this girl as well. It was best she befriended her, or attempted to. She had seemed nice, if a little reserved and a little cunning; Ally grinned. Maybe that was why she liked her.

She rifled through the clothes hanging up on a bar at the back of her dressing room. Ballerinas could be invited to important promotion functions, luckily for her. She grabbed the first thing she saw; an orange cocktail dress with one shoulder that slid like a sheath against her body. A little more Whitechapel than she was sure Jemma would have appreciated in a high class restaurant but it would have to do. She pulled her stiff-from-hairspray hair that was half holding its shape from the bun into a messy plait and slid a pair of plain black heels onto her feet.

She grabbed her phone, ready to leave but on second thought grabbed a pair of diamond earrings she'd lifted from a wealthy heiress who they'd done an extraction job on a fair few years ago. As she was threading them into her earlobes, her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

She pressed answer and lifted it to her ear.

"If this is Eames, you can tell your pretty little thing I'm on my way there," she said, pulling her dressing room door shut.

"_It's not Eames."_

The voice was clear, crisp and American. A posh American accent, if there was such a thing. And Ally's mind immediately went to one place.

"_His name's Arthur Meads. I spoke to him on the phone the other day, he seemed like a bit of a stuck up prat."_

"I'm going to hazard a guess and say this is Arthur," Ally responded easily as she made her way to the back exit of the theatre.

"_And are you the architect?"_ The voice sounded mildly disapproving.

Ally immediately regretted her clothing choice as she stepped out onto a street, waving down a taxi. "What, do I not get a name now?"

"_Alice Eames, as it were."_

"It's Ally." She continued to speak as she slid into the taxi. "Do you have a reason for calling, Point Man?"

"_Yes, I do actually."_ Again with the long suffering tone. _ "Cobb and I request a meeting with you of sorts. As soon as possible."_

"A meeting with me "of sorts?" Thanks, I feel so honoured." Ally held the phone against her cheek for a moment to direct the cab driver. "What, just me and no Eames?"

"_Your brother is not required at this meeting. He has other work to do." _He gave her an address and she said she'd be definitely be there at midnight. If push came to shove, she could just excuse herself from her brother and his guard's company.

"Right, so just me, you and Cobb? That'll be a merry bunch."

"_I highly doubt it. Try not to be late."_ Even his dial tone sounded mildly irritated.

Ally smiled.

She lowered the phone.

She could definitely tell she was going to have fun with Arthur Meads.

* * *

"Nice of you to finally join us, Alice," Eames – or Jacob as she had to think of him for the evening - said when she finally walked into the restaurant.

'Walked' probably wasn't the best word to describe how Alice Eames moved. It was a cross between a fluid saunter and a dance, and those who knew her well knew that she spun her dreams in exactly the same way.

She rolled her eyes at Eames' dramatics, smiling her hellos at Jemma.

"The traffic was horrible," she said, immediately picking up the wine list. Eames and Jemma already had half-finished glasses sitting in front of them, no doubt some expensive brand Jemma had picked out.

"So, Jemma – I can call you Jemma right? Or am I restrained to calling you Miss Rourke like my brother?" The blonde shook her head, indicating Ally to go on. "What exactly brings you to England?"

"Business," Jemma said with a sigh as she swilled the wine around in the glass. Suddenly, Ally was struck with the possibility that Jemma might be older than her. Not much older, but she had a sort of air about her that made her feel very young. "I'm consulting a British associate for my father's company with his second-in-command, my boyfriend."

"Oh," Ally said, feeling as though she had little to say but not letting it phase her. "And where is your boyfriend tonight? Surely it's more customary for a partner to accompany one to such an event as the ballet?"

"Customary it may be, Christian couldn't be here tonight." Ally could feel Eames' eyes boring into her as she sipped her wine. This was the person he was to forge into. "And wasn't that lucky, as it allowed us to run into you."

"The gods would seem to be smiling on us," Eames said in a lowered voice, his first contribution to the conversation.

"Oh, not the gods," Jemma said with a laugh, her head tilting back with merriment. She was a valuable asset to Rourke Enterprises. No one could buy beauty and charm like that, especially that which could attract her brother's attention. And suddenly Ally was struck with how much Jemma as a person, that she happened to quite like even after their brief meeting would be affected if her father's company went under.

It was at that moment that she wholeheartedly, with every fibre of her being, decided to do inception. She'd agreed grudgingly before but now there was a desire to. She could feel her mind thrumming with excitement as she already began to spin a dream so beautiful and torturous, she could get lost in it.

"If not to the gods, then what?" Eames retorted his eyebrows raised.

Jemma smirked. "To fate."

Ally matched her smirk and raised her glass. "To the architects of the world."

Sitting across from the table to the two girls who had become so very prominent in his life, it was at that moment Eames decided he was screwed. Who wouldn't be, facing such a formidable force?

And it was at that moment that they all sealed their fates.

* * *

The clock ticked over to quarter past twelve and Arthur shook his head.

"She's late, Cobb. Have you ever met her before?"

The extractor's face showed he was at ease, not yet burdened with events to come in the future that would probably spurn from this event. He was flicking the edge of a photo he'd taken just before he'd left for London to do this job. His wife Mal was smiling at the camera, her arms around his two year old daughter and his six month old son.

"Once, a long time ago. She was very proficient. And very very young." This clearly wasn't what Arthur was expecting to hear.

"How young? How old is she now?"

"Eames told me she was just 16 when she spun her first dream and she worked in our line of business until she was 19. She's 23 now."

"A year younger than the Mark," Arthur noted. As the Point Man, he held everything in the group together. Arthur had heard it described before that where the Architect was the writer, the Point Man was the producer. He was fascinated with dreams, but it still didn't stop his scepticism as to whether Inception would work.

He voiced these thoughts a moment later. "Do you honestly think this will work, Cobb? It's entirely inconceivable by scholars around the world. What makes you think you'll be able to put it into practice?"

Cobb didn't reply.

"We'll be able to put it into practice because I know what I'm doing." Arthur glanced over to see a young female standing in the doorway. "And it will be _much_ less likely to work if you doubt my abilities."

She wasn't what he expected, but that may be because she was wearing a bright orange dress. She was lithe and petite, but walked across the room with ease. She extended her hand to Cobb.

"Hey Dom," she said with a smile.

To Arthur's surprise, the extractor returned it.

"Hey Ally. Long time no see, huh? You've grown up since I last saw you."

Ally laughed, a rich, throaty sound.

"As have you. Married with kids? It's a wonder you're still in this business at all."

Cobb just smiled but not before Arthur saw something unknown flicker in his eyes. Ally then turned and walked across the room, keeping her hand out.

"Ally Eames," she said. She had deep brown eyes, Arthur noted. He didn't know what Eames looked like so he had nothing to compare to for sibling resemblance, but he couldn't help but think that if Eames had her eyes, he'd be set.

"Arthur Meads. Which you already know," he said, pulling away from his thoughts. "You're late by the way."

She smirked at him. "There was a lot of traffic."

"At 12 in the morning?"

"It's London! The city that never sleeps!"

"That's New York," he informed her.

She smirked again.

"Children, children," Cobb said from across the room with a wry sort of grin. "Let's get down to business."

"Oh yes. What exactly am I needed here for, so urgently?" Ally perched on the edge of a chair. Arthur saw her eyes wandering around the large, airy warehouse they were camped out in and tried to imagine it from her perspective. It was set up sparingly with furniture and several tables. Over in the corner was a bathtub. "Nice place, by the way," she added after she saw Arthur watching her.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I hope you realise what's at stake here."

"Of course I do. I probably do even more so than you." Her tone wasn't cocky, it wasn't trying to one up him. It was as though she was speaking about hard and fast fact. It was what she believed.

"You do understand what inception is, right?"

Ally raised her eyebrows. "It's simple. Extraction is taking information from someone's memory. Inception is implanting a memory."

"And what about that screams 'simple'?" Arthur queried, not bothering to hide the scepticism in his voice.

"You just need to spin the dream in the right way. That's why we have Eames. Inside the dream, Jemma will trust Christian. Cobb plants it. I spin it. You hold it together. Simple."

"Arthur's right, Ally," Cobb said from across the room. "It's not that simple. Extracting is relatively easy but... incepting. Now that's a different story." He stood, pacing in front of the table.

"For starters, you need to go deeper, into the second layer."

Going into a dream within a dream wasn't something Ally had ever done before. It wasn't common practice.

"Then you need to tell them the idea without alerting them to the fact you're in a dream. If that happens, you're screwed."

"It's like if I say don't think about elephants," Arthur pitched in, using the same example he would in a few years for an entirely different job. "What are you thinking about?"

Ally folded her arms, looking at him obstinately. "I'm thinking about how you two are treating me like children, actually."

This time, Arthur did roll his eyes.

Cobb walked closer.

"Ally, this is not going to be easy. It took me a bit of convincing to do this too... But Eames said it should be the last job before I leave. And I want to do it right."

Ally nodded. "Okay." Her tone was more sombre. "What more do I need to know?"

Cobb handed her the file he'd carried over from the table. "It's not going to help you in practice, but it may make you more comfortable in theory, which will carry over."

Ally took it from him, rifling through the top pages. "What is it?"

"Just a collection of events from my last ten years of work."

"Thanks."

Silence hung heavy in the air.

"So when is this taking place?"

"A week from now?"

"A week?! Will Jemma still be in the country?" Ally noticed Arthur looking at her rather reproachfully. "What?"

"Jemma?" he repeated. "She is the Mark, she does not have a name. If we give the Mark a name, they become a person with feelings who we are influencing. It becomes instantly immoral. She is the Mark."

Ally felt a chill run through her at his words. He was right. She'd let her guard down, meeting the soft spoken, pleasant woman at dinner. It had been hard enough to convince her to do this because of her ethics without this interfering.

But she couldn't help but think that if she was screwed after one meeting with Jemma, her brother would be much worse off.


End file.
